


Happy Birthday, Jack Robinson

by inklings



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2611928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inklings/pseuds/inklings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Detective Inspector Jack Robinson's birthday, and he intends to spend it just like any other day. A certain lady detective has different plans, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday, Jack Robinson

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson planned to spend his birthday just like every other day—thwarting criminals and catching up on the ensuing paperwork. And perhaps, at some point, he’d reward himself by stopping in to see the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher for a nightcap. He wouldn’t tell her that it was his birthday, of course, but the pleasure of her company and some light banter would be a gift unto itself.

The truth was that Jack hadn’t properly celebrated his birthday since before he and Rosie split up. In the early years of their marriage, he’d wake up on his birthday to bacon sizzling on the pan and a luscious, two-tiered cake frosted and sitting on the kitchen table. Rosie would kiss him and sing to him softly, and Jack was sure in those moments that he was the luckiest man in the world.

Then things fell to pieces between them, and even through that time she tried to carry on the tradition. But it all felt wrong. Her gaze no longer held the same warm adoration, and when Jack bit into the cake, it tasted too sweet and heavy in his mouth.

Jack shook off the memories of his failed marriage as he sat down at his wooden desk, surveying the piles of paperwork to be completed. He was behind by three reports at least. He expected that he’d be working late into the evening and almost welcomed the distraction.

A soft knock at his door brought him out of his reverie and he looked up to see Constable Hugh Collins standing at the door expectantly. “Good morning, sir,” Hugh said, as rigid and polite as ever.

“Good morning, Collins,” Jack said, gesturing for him to come into the office and shut the door behind him. “What can I help you with?”

Hugh looked nervous as he cleared his throat. “Ah, I was wondering if I could have the night off, sir?” he asked tentatively. “Dottie said that there will be a big party at Miss Fisher’s house. She said that you’re invited too.”

Jack sighed and rubbed his forehead. He tried not to feel disappointed by the news that Phryne wouldn’t be at home alone tonight, waiting up for him to stop by and regale her with the latest news.

He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but over the past few months, he’d come to crave Phryne’s company. Yes, she was a witty, clever, and breathtakingly beautiful woman, but that wasn’t why he’d developed paradoxical feelings about her. It had happened slowly, as they’d become more trusting of each other, and she’d let that polished veneer drop. He thought of how vulnerable and afraid she looked when she’d discovered Jane missing, and of how tenderly she acted towards Dottie.

Those were the moments in which he’d started to lose himself.

He shook his head, disavowing himself of any… _dangerous_ notions about Phryne Fisher. She was the sort of woman who embraced excitement and variety in all areas of her life, and he knew that he couldn’t keep up. Jack was a far too cautious man for a woman like her.

“I’m not one for big parties,” he said wryly, returning to his pile of papers. “But you go on ahead and have a good night. Send Miss Fisher my regards.”

He expected Hugh to thank him and leave, but when Jack looked up, the young constable was still standing in front of his desk looking rather distressed. “Well, ah, sir… I was under the impression that Miss Fisher really wanted you there,” he said. “At least that’s what Dottie said.”

“Tell her I’ll try to make it another time,” Jack responded, waving dismissively at his constable. “I’m sure there will be countless parties at Miss Fisher’s residence in the future.”

\--------------------

“What do you mean, he can’t make it?” Phryne said as she stood in the doorway of her drawing room, watching as Mr. Butler and Dottie pinned up a large banner reading _Happy Birthday, Jack!_ “It’s _his_ birthday party. We can’t very well carry on without his presence.”

She tried not to feel offended. Sometimes, it felt as though Jack went out of his way to avoid being too close to her. When they weren’t solving crimes together, he rarely stopped by and when he did show up for a nightcap, he always left abruptly before things could get more… interesting.

It was a shame, because she really was curious to see what the detective inspector was like when he released his inhibitions.

“To be fair, miss, he doesn’t know that it’s his party,” Hugh said, looking miserable to be the bearer of bad news. He was here on his lunch to let Phryne know that Jack wouldn’t be coming. “He also mentioned that he doesn’t enjoy big parties.”

Phryne looked around the room with her hand on her hip. “Well, that’s easy enough to fix,” she said, pursing her red lips together. “I’ll telephone the nonessential guests and let them know that we’re canceling. Hugh, if you could please tell Jack that it will be an _intimate_ affair.”

“I’ll try, miss,” Hugh agreed, turning a bit red at her choice of words. Before he left, he strode across the room and gave Dottie a sweet kiss on the cheek. Phryne tried not to sigh in envy as she watched them. If Hugh and Dottie—who were both painfully shy when it came to romance—could confess their feelings to each other, why were she and Jack so terribly _stuck_?

Twenty minutes later, Jack heard a knock on his door and saw his constable enter his office once again.

“I was mistaken about the party at Miss Fisher’s house,” Hugh said, the tips of his ears turning red. “It’s going to be, ah, a more intimate affair. Miss Fisher wanted me to invite you again, now that the details are straightened out.”

Jack stared at his young constable. Had Hugh really disturbed him just to ask him to Miss Fisher’s damned party again? And why was she so intent on having him there? Surely, the lady detective had enough friends to keep her entertained.

“The party size may have changed, Collins, but my work hasn’t,” he said drily, gesturing to the papers on his desk. “Now I suggest you leave me to finish these reports. Otherwise, I might find that I need your help later this evening.”

“Yes sir,” Hugh said, and made a hasty retreat. As he exited the room though, he turned around one more time and poked his head through the door. “So you’re sure you can’t make it to Miss Fisher’s party?”

“Yes, Collins, I’m sure!” Jack snapped. “And close the door behind you.”

Once he was alone in his office, Jack leaned back in his chair and shook his head in disbelief. What in the world was wrong with everyone today?

\--------------------

Phryne Fisher was frustrated. It was just that she’d gone through so much trouble for Jack’s party. She’d sneakily looked up his birthday on his official police records, had planned this lovely surprise party, and had even ordered a new gown in fluttering peach silk—and despite all of this, Jack still wasn’t here.

Even though Hugh had glumly telephoned her to say that Jack wouldn’t come, Phryne had foolishly held out hope.  After all, Jack might grumble and fix her with a glare whenever she made a request, but he typically came around. So she decided to carry on with the party, instructing Dottie to finish putting up the decorations and Mr. Butler to cook a decadent dinner.

Phryne had taken care to smudge her eyes with kohl so that they looked sultry and wanton. She’d slipped into the peach silk dress that fit her body like a glove. Then she waited in the drawing room with a flute of champagne in her hand. And waited. And waited.

This was becoming ridiculous.

Finally, she stood up in a huff and marched over to the telephone. Phryne had never been good at being patient. “I’m going to call him and demand his presence,” she called over her shoulder at Dottie and Hugh, who exchanged nervous glances. “I’m certain that it’s the little push he needs to come around.

When Jack came onto the phone though, he sounded irritated and incredulous.

“Miss Fisher,” he said. “For the last time, I regret to inform you that I cannot make it to your party. Now if you’d please allow me to get back to my work…”

“Jack, you can’t possibly be so averse to having a bit of fun,” she wheedled. In moments like this, when Jack was being particularly mulish, she very nearly wanted to give up on him altogether. But then she thought of the way his serious eyes softened in the firelight whenever they shared a drink at the end of a case, and his crooked smiles—which often felt like they were reserved just for her—and she was reeled in once more. “Surely you can stop by for one drink.”

“It’s never just one drink with you, Miss Fisher,” he said. “I have work to do now. Goodbye.”

“Wait, Jack-” Phryne interjected, but he had already hung up the phone. She cursed under her breath, and set her glass of champagne onto the table with a loud clink.

“I’m going to go fetch Jack against his will,” she announced. “Dottie, would you be a dear and hand me my keys?”

\--------------------

It was half past nine and Jack was still in his office, finishing up the day’s work and trying not to feel sorry for himself. It was his fault that he hadn’t done anything on his birthday, his fault that he had been too stubborn to stop by Miss Fisher’s party. He wondered what she was doing tonight—was she radiant and dancing in the arms of another man? The thought made him want to slam his fist against his desk with frustration.

He was so engrossed in the thought of Phryne— _his Phryne,_ as he dared to think of her only in his most private moments—enjoying the company of another man that he didn’t hear the knock on his office door until it was too late. The door swung open, and the very woman that he’d been thinking about walked in through the door, a vision in peach silk.

“Miss Fisher,” he said, flustered. “What in the world are you doing here?”

She ignored his question and strode quickly across the room, settling onto the corner of his desk and crossing her arms. “You, Jack, are an impossible man to plan a birthday party for,” she chastised, pressing a finger against his chest. “We’ve been celebrating all night without you.”

“How did you know-” he started, but she cut him off.

“I went through all this trouble of planning the most marvelous night,” she said, scooting over onto the desk so that she sat directly in front of him. Jack tried not to look at the way her dress hitched up around her thighs. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I had no idea, Miss Fisher,” he replied honestly. Her words were sinking in now, and he looked up in wonder. Had Phryne truly taken the time to plan him a birthday celebration? He felt touched by the gesture, and regretted not picking up on poor Hugh’s many hints. No wonder the young constable had been so distressed. “I would have made an appearance if I knew I was the guest of honor.”

“You’re always my guest of honor, Jack,” Phryne whispered, leaning in so that her face was dangerously close to his.

For one rarified moment, Jack felt himself drawn to her as though magnetized. How many times had he looked at those lips and thought of kissing that devious smile off of her face? His mind raced as he tried to make a decision. Would he lean forward to meet her lips and risk changing everything between them?

But just as he was coming around to the idea of making a choice—the _not so honorable_ choice—Phryne hopped off the table and landed precariously on her heels, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. “We should go,” she said, grinning cheekily at him. “I promised everyone that I’d have you home in time for cake.”

As she clattered out of the room ahead of him, Jack took a deep breath and steadied himself. The way that she said “have you home”—as though it was a home that they shared together—made him feel at once bewildered and hopeful. He stood up and followed her out of the room, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that he’d follow her anywhere.

\---------------------

Jack’s first birthday celebration in years went far better than he expected. Phryne’s drawing room was cozy and inviting as always, and it warmed him to see Phryne, Hugh, Dottie, Mr. Butler, Jane, and Doctor Mac all gathered just for him. As Dottie carried in the cake—sparkling with lit candles—and they all sang to him, Jack had to close his eyes for a moment so that his emotions wouldn’t overwhelm him.

It had been so long since he felt like he belonged anywhere, and somehow, he’d found himself a part of Phryne’s unconventional adopted family.

“Thank you,” he kept saying as Dottie cut him a thick slice of cake, and Hugh sheepishly handed him a wrapped parcel containing a small volume of Shakespearean sonnets. “Thank you so much.”

And after everyone else had gone to bed, Jack found himself sitting in the quiet drawing room at the other end of the couch from Phryne. She’d pulled her legs up underneath her, and they sat in companionable silence, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the last of the champagne.

“I do hope tonight wasn’t so terrible, Jack,” Phryne remarked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “It was quite difficult convincing you to come.”

He smiled sheepishly and cleared his throat. “I can’t thank you enough, Miss Fisher. I had a wonderful time.”

“And I haven’t even given you your present yet!” Phryne exclaimed, resting her chin on the edge of the couch and giving him a saucy smile.

“You went through all the trouble of planning this evening,” he said, trying not to look at the way the front of her dress dipped past her collarbone. He took another sip of his champagne to counter his suddenly dry mouth. “I couldn’t possibly accept anything more from you.”

“You don’t even know what I intend to give you,” she purred, eyes twinkling with mischief.  “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

When had she scooted closer to him on the couch? Jack couldn’t remember how she’d ended up right next to him—her shoulder brushing against his, her lips parted teasingly, and the scent of her perfume intoxicating his senses.

He knew that he shouldn’t ask, that doing so what be inviting some degree of unpredictability and risk into his fastidious life. But Phryne’s eyes were twinkling and her mouth was wet, and he couldn’t help but ask the question that she so obviously wanted to hear.

“Tell me, Miss Fisher,” he said, his voice low and unfamiliar even to himself. “What _is_  my birthday present?”

Her lips pressed against his—warm and soft and gloriously insistent all at once—almost before he’d finished the sentence. And before his rational mind could kick in and tell him to stop, Jack had her face in his hands and he was kissing her back.

\---------------------

“That was quite the unexpected gift, Miss Fisher,” Jack said when they both finally surfaced for air.

Phryne sat on the couch with her legs across his lap, and he draped his arm across her slender shoulders. This physical closeness—which he’d thought about for so long—felt surprisingly easy and natural now that Phryne was here with him, her hair slightly mussed up and her lips even redder than usual.

“It was a bit of a gamble, I’ll admit,” Phryne said, arching her eyebrows at him. “If you weren’t pleased with my present, I’m not sure what I would have done. I essentially placed all of my eggs in one basket, so to speak.”

She kept her tone light, but something in the way that her eyes flickered—that peek of uncertainty and vulnerability—made Jack aware that she wasn’t just talking about a birthday gift.

“That’s not very like you,” he said, clearing his throat. “Not coming prepared with a back-up plan, that is.”

Phryne looked down, and he watched her bite her lower lip as she looked at her hands through long dark lashes. He realized, with a pang of affection, that she was nervous. “Well,” she responded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “After you came along, Jack, I discarded all of my back-up plans.”

“That must have been difficult.” Jack didn’t know if he trusted himself to say anything more.

“It went against every fiber of my being,” she said, and he saw a smile flit across her lips. “But somehow it felt worth it.”

“I think I know how you feel, Miss Fisher,” he replied, and Phryne finally tilted her chin to look at him again. Her face, naked with hope, took his breath away. He had to fight the desire to bring his mouth down to hers again, but there would be time for that later. Right now, he needed to finish what he meant to say. “I never thought I’d allow myself to… feel this way again after Rosie.”

“And how is it that you feel, Jack?” Phryne asked. Her face was mere inches away from his, her blue eyes piercing.

“I feel as though I couldn’t live without you.” He let the words tumble out, his voice rough from the effort of holding back his desires and thoughts for so long. “And I swear I would never ask you to change, Phryne, or to enter into an… arrangement that doesn’t suit your nature-”

She cut him off then, pressing those delicious lips against his and wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer. Phryne kissed him long and fierce, and then she broke away from him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jack,” she gasped, still breathless and wild. “Being with you— _just you_ —would suit my nature perfectly. After all, it’s what we do best, isn’t it?”

Jack looked at her then and was flooded with memories of all the times she’d shown up at his crime scene with a jaunty spring in her step and a revolver in her handbag. He thought of all the times they’d rushed in foolishly to save each other’s lives. He thought of how he’d comforted her when Jane was kidnapped, and how she’d been there for him when he was still reeling from the discovery that his former father-in-law—a man he loved and admired like a father—was a criminal.

Somehow, she’d insinuated herself into every facet of his life, and he into hers. They’d fluidly gone from acquaintances, to partners, to friends, and finally now… to _this._

“It certainly is what we do best,” he said, smoothing her hair down and leaning over to kiss her on the top of her head. “And I look forward to doing more of it in the future.”

She smiled at him then—a true smile, without artifice or the veneer of sophisticated charm—and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. It was a chaste gesture, but coming from Phryne, it somehow felt all the more intimate.

“Happy birthday, Jack Robinson,” she whispered. “I do hope you’re happy, darling.”

“Incandescently so,” he said, and wasted no time in kissing her again. After all, it was his birthday, and he wanted to make the most out of the gift he’d been given. 

_Fin._


End file.
